


what did you sing to that lonely child

by toastforone



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Conflicted Sam Winchester, Emotionally Hurt Sam Winchester, Gen, John Winchester Being an Asshole, Sad Dean Winchester, Sad Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester Leaves for Stanford, anti john propaganda, just kind of a bummer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-19 08:02:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29747442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toastforone/pseuds/toastforone
Summary: When Sam decided to go to college, he kept it a secret.Of course he did, he knew how his family would react - he’d imagined every possible scenario of how he would break the news, and exactly what John would say.What Dean would say.In the quiet moments of the night, when the silence was broken only by the percussion of Dean’s snores, he would dream about the proud look on his brother’s face, and the love on his father’s. “You did good, Sammy,” John would say, "that’s my boy.”
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	what did you sing to that lonely child

**Author's Note:**

> listen. LISTEN. john winchester smells, and im tired of pretending that he doesn't. 
> 
> title is from the lumineers 'my eyes' because it's a certified bummer :)

When Sam decided to go to college, he kept it a secret. 

Of course he did, he knew how his family would react - he’d imagined every possible scenario of how he would break the news, and exactly what John would say. 

What Dean would say. 

If he felt like being realistic, he would picture the vicious fight that would ensue - the words his father would yell at him, and the words Sam would scream back. In his more vindictive moments, Sam would win the argument and leave triumphant, righteous in his anger and at peace with his decision. He would finally tell John how stifled he felt in this life, how unloved, about the trapped and panicky feeling in his gut when he woke up every morning. How his mom wouldn’t have wanted this for him. How John had been a bad father, and that Sam was sorry for being a bad son, but he had been a _child_ , and he shouldn’t have had to try to convince John to let him be one.

In the quiet moments of the night, when the silence was broken only by the percussion of Dean’s snores, he would dream about the proud look on his brother’s face, and the love on his father’s. “You did good, Sammy,” John would say, “that’s my boy.” They would all drive out to Palo Alto together, and Sam would get the normal tearful goodbye he’s seen freshmen get on TV. He would call them every week, or Dean and John would set up semi-permanently in California. His brother would be so happy for him, and everything would work out. The Winchester’s would be well adjusted, and John would apologise for raising them in the life. Sam would forgive him. 

It was a stupid, pointless dream, and a waste of time, and Sam should have known better than to even _hope_ \- as a general principle, he tried to be honest with himself about his situation and that was _not_ what this was. Not even a little bit.

Telling his family also just seemed like… he didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, okay? This was one thing he had to himself, and saying it out loud would have made it _real._ Like actually, really real. Make no mistake, Sam was sure of his decision and couldn’t fathom spending another week hunting (let alone the rest of his life) but it was still _scary_. This was all he’d ever known, and their family was so insular that to even think about leaving felt like a betrayal of the worst kind. But this was his choice, one of the few he’d ever made for himself. 

So, sure, he was being secretive but it wasn’t because he was planning to sneak out in the middle of the night without saying goodbye, or whatever Dean ended up thinking. He just… didn’t want to hear the lectures about it. He didn’t want the goodbyes to be final. He didn’t want it to be a big deal. 

It _was_ a big deal. 

It really _fucking_ was. 

When his dad cornered him in the kitchen, brandishing the thick envelope of his acceptance letter like a weapon, Sam felt his stomach drop. He didn’t even want to know what his face looked like - if there was one thing John hated, it was his sons showing fear. 

The words John had spewed were hurtful, if not unsurprising. Sam had known how it was likely to go. He’d prepared for this, mostly. 

He just wished it could have happened on his own terms. The result would have been the same, but he was so _unprepared_ for the confrontation that he felt like his whole world tilted, shifted off its axis by just his father’s vitriol and the look in Dean’s eyes. He didn’t have any of his points ready, he hadn’t looked in the mirror and told himself it was the right thing to do, they weren’t in a public place where John would be more concerned with not drawing unnecessary attention than with disciplining his insubordinate son. 

It was all so _wrong._

He wanted to explain why he hadn’t said anything, but his throat felt too choked to even try. _I was worried you’d be disappointed in me. You never gave me a choice._ _I’m so unhappy, all the time, I can’t stand it. I didn’t tell you I was applying because I didn’t think I would get in and then I did and I didn’t know what to say so I just said nothing, and I’m sorry I handled it so badly, but I have to do this, and I love you both still, and I’m sorry._

_I’m sorry._

That’s what it really came down to, Sam supposed. He was sorry, about a lot of things. 

But then, he was also _so_ angry. _Why weren’t they happy for him, why couldn’t they be normal, why was this his life_. His dad had come at him so quickly that he had no option but to go on the defensive and try to scrape up what was left of his pride. Lashing out might not have been mature, but why was it up to him to be the mature one. 

Go big or go home, right? 

Dean had been silent since the fight had begun, standing behind their father like a ghost. He just stared at Sam with this look on his face, like Sam was tearing him apart from the inside out. Like Sam was the one breaking his heart, not the other way around.

And _God,_ why was he the bad guy for wanting to go to _fucking_ _college._ Why was _that_ what made him the freak of the family, after everything they’d seen? All he ever wanted was for Dean to be proud of him, all he had ever _asked_ for was Dean’s support. He was just so tired of being the odd one out. It was always Dean and John on the same wavelength, sharing looks about Sam’s moods when they thought he couldn’t see, muttering about him in the kitchen when he was in the bedroom _well within earshot_. 

Looking to Dean for back up now felt like getting kicked in the teeth. His brother just shook his head, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing and then stared slightly to Sam’s left as if he couldn't even stand to look him in the eye. 

“Dean?” Sam said, quietly. The finality in his voice couldn’t be ignored - this was it. Dean had to decide. “We cou- you could come with?” It was a last-ditch effort, but Sam didn’t want to do this without Dean. He wanted Dean to see him graduate, wanted Dean to help him move into his dorm. He wanted Dean to get a regular job somewhere in the state and he wanted Dean to have a chance at a normal life. Sam wanted a lot of things. 

As he had grown up, he started to realise very few of his goals aligned with Dean’s. This wasn’t one of them. 

“Sammy - Sam,” Dean’s voice cracked. “I… I can’t, you know that I can’t,” he gestured loosely towards John, “How could you even ask - Dad needs - Sam, you can’t _leave._ ” 

Dean looked shattered, but Sam couldn’t find the words to comfort him. He couldn’t turn back now, couldn’t just say syke and have things go back to normal. Things were irrevocably, unmistakably different this time. He only pressed his lips into a tight line, and nodded like he had already known the answer. 

Sam pushed passed John towards the room he had shared with Dean, all while listening to John’s tirade. Different phrasings of “You’re a selfish bastard, Sam, always have been!” and “You were never cut out for this life” and “You get back here, that’s an order!” on repeat while he hastily shoved his belongings into his duffle bag. 

Sam supposed he was lucky that there wasn’t much to pack. 

Once he was finished he slung the bag over his shoulder and reentered the main living space. He clutched the strap of his duffle and looked back at the only two people he had ever really _known_. He saw his whole life, in this one room - the sum of all his parts. He almost put the bag down, almost unclenched his fists and gave up fighting. He was tired of fighting. 

And then:

“If you walk out that door, don’t you ever come back!” John yelled. 

And how could Sam live with that, if he stayed. Knowing how easily his father would let him go, how could he have ever sat in the back of the Impala and been happy. So he left. Just another choice John had made for him. 

Sam could see Dean opening his mouth to say something because he knew John had crossed a line with that, but Sam was already moving towards the door. He was crying, now. 

It was raining outside. _A pathetic fallacy_ , his English teacher would have said. 

He left the door open behind him like an invitation and began trudging down the street towards the closest bus stop. It was the worst kind of rain, he thought, drizzly and half-hearted - miserable in every sense of the word.

Sam didn’t feel triumphant, and he certainly didn’t feel righteous. At the end of the road he turned to look at the small house they had been staying in. No one was following him out. As he watched, too far to make out the figure in the gloom, the door shut with a definitiveness that Sam felt reverberate in his bones. 

He sucked in a breath, suddenly untethered from the world. His brother wasn’t coming. He was alone. 

There was nothing Sam could do but steel himself, and then continue his weary march to the bus stop. He kept an ear out for the rumble of the Impala all the way. 

He never heard it, and it never came. 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks xox


End file.
